


River Rescue

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Timey Wimey Adventures [2]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-17
Updated: 2012-03-17
Packaged: 2017-11-02 02:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/364039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes River has to rescue the Doctor, even when she's hurt and angry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	River Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> Set after The God Complex for 11, after the Wedding of River Song for River.
> 
> After all, they *did* worship him on Easter Island

River was exasperated. Annoyed. Even angry. The second he had kissed her in the hand-fasting ceremony on top of the pyramid, the Doctor seemed to want to relegate her to Damsel in Distress status, as though she were any other of the dozens of Companions he’d had according to her studies, helpless, clingy, and not able to take care of herself. Her being in Stormcage for his murder was one thing - she didn’t like it but she understood it was necessary - but did he have to start treating her like she was stupid? She fumed, pacing back and forth in her cell like a caged animal.

Which she supposed she was, really. It had been a couple of weeks for her, and she hadn’t seen him in person since that strange wedding they’d used to save the universe. Again, apparently. He’d left her a couple short messages on psychic paper, but that was it. So not only was she angry with him for treating her like a mere human child, she was worried about him. _Took Ponds to safety in England 2011_ , said one, and the other said merely, _Pirates!_

Well, she decided, if she expected him to treat her as an equal, she’d best act like one. She’d rescue herself, dammit, and if she had to, she’d rescue him too. Even if he had rejected her. She began to plan.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

The Doctor was wondering if he’d get out alive. These villagers seemed to like him, they treated him with great respect and called him Doctor with such reverence that he could practically hear the capitalised letter D, even through the TARDIS translation field. They had kept the TARDIS near him. They had even invented fish fingers and made a custard out of the milk of the local goats for him, feeding them to him whenever he asked. Now _that_ was hospitality.

Except that they fed him the fish fingers and custard themselves, because he was tied to a tree.

The tree had a lovely view of the Moai statue of Easter Island on Earth, in what he suspected was rather an earlier century than the one he had aimed for. He’d wanted to show up around 1750 - there’d been some lovely paintings of the Moai and the island from around that time and he’d wanted to see it for himself. But it looked as though he was about 600 years too early, around the time the natives had started carving the statues, because only one of the idols was completed. They had completed it after they had captured him and tied him to the tree. The tree was made of wood, of course, and his sonic screwdriver did not work on it; nor did it work on the vines that bound him to the tree. He was really going to have to work on that.

“Why are you keeping me here?” he asked the pretty child who was feeding him fish fingers dipped in custard. She and the other children who served him were the only ones he could ask, as the adults kept coming to look at him from afar, and giggling behind their hands nervously before they went back to the little village of tents. The man he assumed was the elder or priest or chief came to look at him once, but that had been a week ago when he’d first been imprisoned and he hadn’t thought to ask at the time. So he asked the children. But they just giggled behind their hands too, and he decided to try something else. “Take me to your leader!” he shouted, and this time her eyes went wide and frightened, and he was sorry. He hadn’t meant to scare her... and please, _please_ don’t let her cr... oh no, she was crying and he was helpless against that, children crying, always had been, and _now what_?

He became even more distressed as the child ran away. Now he’d done it, frightened a small child and when the chief (or elder or priest) came roaring over the hillside to him, he more or less felt that he deserved anything he got. So he stood there, tied to his tree (of which he was getting rather fond, actually) and just took the chief/elder/priest berating him until something the man said caught his attention. “The Teachings say you are kind to children! But you have frightened my daughter - the only daughter of the Priest of the House of the Lord of Time ( _aha! I was right! He’s a priest_ , thought the Doctor) and so the Teaching cannot be correct!” He began to tear at his elaborately arranged hair, and the Doctor realised the man was having a religious crisis on top of all the rest of it, and then the words _House of the Lord of Time_ hit him and he groaned.

“Wait!” cried the Doctor, and then continued in a much quieter tone, “I am sorry. I did not mean to frighten the child. May I apologise to your daughter myself?” The priest’s eyes widened and he nodded, beckoning the child forward. The Doctor knelt as best he could, tied to the tree as he was, and looked the little girl straight in the eye as she stood stoically in front of him. “I am sorry, Daughter of the House of the Lord of Time,” he said softly, and kissed her on the forehead, “I have erred and I hope you can forgive me. Now...” he said, somewhat plaintively as he stood, looking at the priest (who was rearranging his hair), “will somebody _please_ answer my question? Why are you keeping me here?”

“Why, because of the Teachings, my Lord Doctor,” said the priest, bowing, “They speak of you and implore the People to keep you here until She comes to confirm your identity and to consult with you in the Blue Box.” The Doctor groaned again, inwardly this time, and gestured for the man to continue. The priest closed his eyes as if to bring to mind something learned long ago, and began, “It was told in the Teachings, my Lord Doctor, that She shall come for you, and we shall know Her by the dust and lightning in which She appears, and She will tell us whether you are in fact the Lord Doctor who was foretold.”

The Doctor opened his mouth as though to say something, closed it, and opened it again. Finally he choked out, “Do the... Teachings... describe Her? Give Her name, maybe?” The priest opened his eyes and gestured toward his daughter and the other people standing nearby. They all melted away into the trees and down the hillside and the priest leaned close to his captive.

“The Teachings say very little, but I have expanded upon them,” he confided in a low tone. “I... politics, you understand.” He looked hopefully at the Doctor, who rolled his eyes, but nodded encouragingly. The man stepped back and continued in the more oratorical tone he had been using before sending the villagers away. “And lo, it shall come to pass that the Goddess of Music and Water shall come to the People, and She shall verify that the Doctor is the Lord of Time, and ye shall make idols of him but not of Her, because She is unknowable.” The Doctor’s mouth had dropped open and he was gaping at the man, trying very very hard not to laugh with relief. “And they shall consult in the Blue Box, and ye shall let them go away in the Box, and the People shall live in prosperity.” He moved closer to the Doctor again, and said quietly, “There, isn’t that better than the old words? They were so boring...” and the Doctor nodded agreeably as he nearly bit his tongue clean _off_ in the effort not to laugh. It was just as well, after all, that the “Goddess of Music and Water” had decided to be unknowable - who knew what timelines could have been altered if the Moai statues had each sported a mop of unruly curls...

“Just out of curiosity, Sir Priest,” said the Doctor, and the man preened at the title, “Could you share with me the old words? I’d love to hear how you improved them.” He was laying it on a bit thick, he thought, but the self-important priest seemed to thrive on that sort of thing.

“Oh,” said the priest in an off-handed tone, “Something like “I’m River Song and I’ll come back and take the Doctor away in the blue box after you make a statue of him.” Nothing important, really.” He looked smug.

“Oh, certainly,” said the Doctor, “far better your way...” He trailed off as they both heard a whooshing sound and the priest glanced in that direction, then dropped to his knees, covering his face with his hands. And the Doctor heard exactly what he’d been hoping for.

“Hello, Sweetie.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The Doctor wondered how any woman, simply dressed in a singlet and jodhpurs, could look so absolutely amazing. Maybe it was her hair crackling with static around her head like a halo, or maybe it was simply that he _knew_ her and he knew how very amazing she was. She didn’t even spare him a glance; she just went straight to the priest kneeling on the ground and said in a ringing voice, “Arise, good priest, and tell me what you want of me.” _Oh, she’s good_ , thought the Doctor, _she’s already figured out what’s going on here_. He was hugely proud of her, his River Song. The priest scrambled to his feet, his hands still covering his face in a ritual gesture of awe.

“I only wish to v-verify this man’s identity, Lady,” he said, voice shaking, “Is he in truth the Doctor of whom Your Teachings speak?”

River finally looked at the Doctor, her eyes raking him up and down impersonally, as though she barely knew him. _Ooo - good tactic, River,_ thought the Doctor, _make him believe you don’t really care_. “He is,” she said with a cool indifference that made the Doctor think that really, she was overdoing the impersonal act just a _bit_ , “Will you release him to me? Or shall I leave him in your care?” She sniffed derisively. “It seems... adequate... for one such as he.” _Wait a minute,_ thought the Doctor, trying to project into her mind, _what’s all this?_ But she wasn't looking at him now, much less touching him, and they weren’t in the TARDIS, so he couldn’t contact her. _Now what?_

“My Lady,” said the priest, still cringing, “We would prefer if You took him away as foretold. The Teachings must be followed. You can see, my Lady, that the Blue Box of which Your Teaching speaks is nearby...” he trailed off. His hunters had tried to get into the Box many times over the past few days and had always been foiled by its simple door. He watched through his fingers as the Lady glanced at the Blue Box, Her whole bearing softening and gentling. _Ah!_ he thought in a burst of religious clarity, _the Doctor must have stolen Her Blue Box, and therefore She finds him... distasteful, evidently. That must be it._ This thought strengthened him and he was able to take his hands from his eyes.

“Oh, very well,” the Goddess said, dismissively. “I shall take him, if I must. Untie him.” She turned and stalked off to the Blue Box to wait.

The priest waved away the men who came to help. He would deliver this Doctor to Her with his own hands, thereby gaining Her favor. He struggled with the knots, noting that the Doctor remained impassive, as though he were thinking of something else and completely removed from the situation. _Ahhh..._ he thought, _he knows She is angry with him, and is preparing himself as best he can for his fitting punishment._

The Doctor stood by the tree, absently rubbing his wrists as his arms were released, watching everything going on around him. The priest seemed smugly satisfied with himself. River was angry but the Doctor didn’t know why. The TARDIS hummed that special hum she did whenever River was aboard. The little girl - the priest’s daughter - shyly handed him a flower and when he nodded and smiled at her, she giggled behind her hands again. _Well, that’s sorted at least_ , he thought a little sourly, _just as I leave the child trusts me again. Brilliant job, Time Lord_.

He took a deep breath and shoved his hair back with his hand (he’d been dying to do that for days now), then turned to face the priest. “Thank you, Sir Priest,” he said, wondering why the priest was giving him a look of - was it pity? “You hospitality has been... interesting.” He knelt in front of the little girl. “Thank you for the flower, and the forgiveness,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “Well,” he said, turning at last to River, “Shall we?” He offered her his arm, but she ignored it and just turned on her heel and went into the TARDIS. The humming changed slightly; first there was a sudden change in pitch, just barely, and then the humming switched to a low, tooth-aching thrum. The villagers - including the priest but not his daughter - turned and ran. The little girl paused long enough to wave, and then ran after her father.

And the Doctor entered his TARDIS.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

 _He kissed the little girl_ , River thought, _and I don’t think it was to intentionally manipulate_. The bastard always had been good with children, but she wasn’t fooled. He’d been avoiding her since their wedding - such as it was - and after it had landed her in Stormcage, the least he could do was come see her. She was pacing up and down the control area of the console room as the Doctor entered and he paused for a moment to admire her. He marveled that she loved him, really, she was such an amazing combination of smooth muscle and soft skin and clever wit and wild hair, and so he just stood, watching her stalk back and forth. Then she whirled on him and snarled, “Well? What do you have to say for yourself?”

“Er,” he said lamely, taken aback at her tone, and not knowing where to put his arms, “You look lovely, dear? Or wait, right, you said ‘for yourself’, meaning me, so yeah, I got in over my head with those tribesmen and you were brilliant, River, you really were, playing the angry goddess bit and all that. Well done.” He beamed at her.

She glared at him and his face fell. He put out one hand, hesitantly, to touch her hair and she jerked back, snapping, “Don’t touch me!” _But..._ said his mind, _but... River, it’s me, you’ve always... River..._ He stared at her, aghast, and he could not control the expression of hurt and confusion. He reached out again, and she slapped him, hard. “I _said_ ,” she ground out between her teeth, “Don’t. Touch. Me.” His eyes grew wide and blank and he slumped into the jump seat nearest him. _I..._ his mind was gibbering at him, _I... what did I do?_

The humming of the TARDIS suddenly increased in pitch, and they both felt her irritation as she forced them to listen. The impressions were not in words, but they were clear all the same.

 _(spoilers, not there yet, sorrow, love)_ felt River, and...

 _(regret, love, spoilers, timey-wimey)_ felt the Doctor...

...and they gasped together as the TARDIS let them out of that firm mental grip.

River stared at the Doctor. He hadn't been there yet? Hadn’t done that yet? But she had _seen_ it, he had been there, and... but wait... he was a Time Lord, and she’d always known her own time stream was... not straightforward. _Born in the fifty-first_ , she thought, _and raised in the 1960s and in the twenty-first century... no, not really the usual thing_. Oh, bless, and she had _hit_ him...

The Doctor coughed once. “Rather like an adult taking you firmly by the chin and telling you exactly what’s what, isn’t it dear?” he said, trying to lighten the intensity of the mood. He knew guilt, better than anyone, and he knew River would feel it now as he did, and the place where she’d slapped him didn’t hurt _that_ much, so yeah, he tried to lighten the mood.

He must have succeeded, because she tackled him in his chair, throwing her arms around him and soothing the place where she’d slapped him by kissing it. “Forgive me?” she murmured into his ear and then she moved her lips to his mouth and the kiss got _much_ more serious. He would have nodded if he could have removed her mouth from his, but he much preferred to concentrate on the kissing _(oh, so soft)_ and he contented himself with whispering the words _always and completely_ into her mouth. She moaned and snuggled deeper into his lap and tangled her tongue with his and an alarm went off in his head, so he broke the kiss, panting.

“Er... River,” he said breathlessly as she whimpered at the loss of contact, “...if I understood what she said, you were angry--” he was cut off as she kissed him again, her lips swollen and her eyes wide and dark. He tore himself away. “--because you thought I left you there in Stormcage, and that means you’re... new. Are you sure...mmph....” _Okay_ , he thought as she fastened her lips to his again, before his brain just stopped, _she might be new in this body but she’s old enough to know what she wants..._

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

River and her husband - even though he didn’t know it yet - lay together on the soft blue mattress the TARDIS had kindly materialised in the console room for them. She wondered why she had been so quick to believe that he had married her and then abandoned her to Stormcage, and finally decided that there were bits of her that still automatically responded to the remnants of brainwashing she’d suffered as a child. She made a mental note to be aware that things might sometimes be... _timey-wimey_ was the phrase he’d used. Out of order. Causing Spoilers. She sighed and kissed him again. The Doctor smiled at her. “Care for another round, my lovely River Song?” he asked, twirling one of her curls gently round his finger.

“Mmmmm...” she agreed, “I would, but I think we ought to go back and set up the ‘Teachings’, don’t you?” She gave him a smile that was almost shy. “I had to come here - now - and hear what I said there - then - so I can say it....” The smile turned into a cocky grin as she continued, “I understand the physics, but English isn’t really built for time travel, is it? What?” He was shaking his head slightly, smiling at her.

“You understand the physics, my River,” he said, disentangling his finger from her hair and running it down her jaw, making her shiver, “but you’ve forgotten even as we’re discussing time that this is a _time machine_. We’ve got all the time in the universe.”


End file.
